


The Joltolock Saga of Ficlets

by greyscalemuse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, James plays matchmaker, Johnlock - Freeform, Joltolock, M/M, Multi, Phone Sex, Sholtolock, Slow Burn, Some angst, eventual joltolock, everyone is quippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyscalemuse/pseuds/greyscalemuse
Summary: Sherlock hasn't confessed to John and James takes matters in his own hands. Everything else just falls into place.





	1. John Watson Inspires Stanzas

**Author's Note:**

> So it's about time that I actually post these on Ao3. It's been almost a year since I started writing Joltolock, so to celebrate I give you the beginning of it all. Before TSB - there was this. There would have been more, however when TSB developed into what it was, the project was dropped. It is relatively complete though. It isn't your normal kind of Joltolock that you would expect from me, but I hope you enjoy it none the less!
> 
> Note: The original ficlets were posted out of order. For the sake of some kind of timeline, I have gone ahead and put them in chronological order.

There was a cheery jingle of a small bell that followed Sherlock as he opened and closed the door. He gave a dismissive wave to the waitress who was about to greet him, simply pointing to the table that was already occupied. Without wasting pleasantries, he sat himself across from the other man and fiddled with the menu that was laid out before him.

“So,” Sherlock began, skipping a formal hello all together, “All accounts say that you prefer your privacy, but this invitation… and setting… prove to be slightly contradictory.”

The other man sighed heavily and dropped his head forward just slightly before he shifted to sit even straighter in his chair, “Mr. Holmes,” he replied as he lifted his glass with his good hand. “Brisk and to the point.”

“I’m not one for idle chatter.”

“Yet you seem to like to hear yourself speak.”

Sherlock clicked his mouth shut and stares forward, the remark obviously catching him slightly off guard. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop impatiently and exhaled loudly through his nose. “Fine. Why am I here, James?”

James Sholto couldn’t quite bring himself to smile toward the man across from him but he made the valiant effort to twitch his lips just slightly in his direction. “I never got around to properly thanking you for saving my life. I would have done so sooner if it hadn’t been for your extended stay in the hospital.”

“Yes. Well. Doctors do tend to over react when your heart stops… twice,” Sherlock cleared his throat once before he shifted forward in his seat and leaned against his elbows on the tabletop.

“Strange side effect of getting shot in the chest,” James countered before he took the last swig of his drink and sighed, staring at the empty glass in his hand rather thoughtfully. “You keep him out of trouble.”

Sherlock smirked and gave a curt nod, “Ah,” he breathed as he pressed his lips against his folded hands. “So that’s the real reason.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

“I wasn’t. But it’s nice to hear some clarification.” Sherlock punctuated his statement with a shrug to his shoulders before leaning back again, drumming a quick nonsensical rhythm against the tabletop before he cleared his throat and spoke again, “I promise that no more trouble will come to John Watson… or at least… no more trouble than he can handle.” There was a loud screech as the legs of his chair slid against bare wood as Sherlock stood. “Next time just text me.”

James reached out with his right hand and grabbed the sleeve to Sherlock’s coat. “Sit,” he commanded in a manner that made Sherlock do so without question. “I’m not done.” He cleared his throat and lifted his chin just slightly as Sherlock slouched back. “Why did you agree to meet me?”

Sherlock held back a low chuckle, biting it into a breathy scoff as he lifted his eyes to James. He leaned forward on his elbows again and shrugged. “I suppose I have a soft spot for men in uniform,” he tried to joke but James raised an eyebrow before taking another swig of his drink.

“That so?” he set his glass down with a loud clink before inclining his head. “I wasn’t aware John still owned his.”

Sherlock sputtered, his composure dashed away by the splotchy redness that colored his cheeks, “Now wait…” he wildly waved his hands in a negating gesture as he shook his head. “No. No. That’s not… no.”

“Really? Because I was at the wedding, Sherlock. I heard the speech,” he leaned forward and pressed his index finger to the table top as he lowered his voice. “You used what you saw to save my life, Mr. Holmes and you exposed yourself in doing so. We wouldn’t hurt John that way. You saw it, you said it, you knew I’d respond in kind and I’m sitting before you now to tell you that what I witnessed at that wedding were not the actions of a best man. They were a love confession and it was painful to watch,” James sat back, but his eyes remained locked on Sherlock’s, whose face had lost the unnatural reddish pink hue only to be replaced by an equally unnatural sheet white. “So when I say… keep him out of trouble… I’m telling you to get him away from that woman he’s married and confess properly because John Watson will only continue to trouble himself further by trying to cope.”

Sherlock could only clear his throat and he dropped his eyes to his hands that had settled pressed against the table in order to keep them still. “I was under the impression that you were also a man of few words.”

“Yes, well… you of all people should realize that John can inspire a man to speak stanzas on his behalf. So please, don’t make them go to waste,” James reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a single square of paper. Sherlock could tell by the slight creases and the way it folded that it was actually a photo. James took great care to make sure he could only see the back of it. “This. Is a photo of John while he was still in the military. In full uniform. There aren’t very many and I’ve managed to keep this one thus far,” He pulled it back from Sherlock’s questing hand before the other man realized he was even reaching for it in an automatic response. “It is yours. But only if you do as I say and you make this madness end.”

“And what makes you think I want that?”

“Because you said it yourself, Mr. Holmes. You have a soft spot for men in uniform and I very much doubt that whatever you’ve concocted in that… what’s the term? Mind Palace? Of yours can do any justice to the real thing and this… is the closest you will get.” He slipped the photo back into his pocket and smiled as Sherlock’s blush returned with a raging vigor. “He’ll be very lucky to have you.”

“You hardly know me.”

“I know enough,” his smile turned from teasing to sincere as he watched Sherlock wet his lips, drop his eyes, only to lift them once again.

“Why? Given the way you speak it’s obvious that you still care for him deeply.”

“That’s true.”

“So why try to force us together?”

“I won’t be forcing, for one,” James corrected. “But to answer your question directly, I’ve had my time with him. And if I were to be honest? He doesn’t look to me the same way he once did. Now he looks that way to you,” he held up a finger and silenced Sherlock’s upcoming protest with a sharp look. “He loves you, Sherlock and if you have not figured that out yet, then your gift of observation is completely useless to you.” He pushed himself up out of his chair before reaching over to touch Sherlock’s shoulder, trying to steady the man whose mind had clearly spun completely out of control at the admission – even though it had not come from the desired source. “I speak from experience. If you squander the opportunity to know what he’s like to love and love you in return… openly… and truly… then you’re no genius, Sherlock Holmes. You’re a downright idiot.”

The small jab to his intelligence seemed to spur Sherlock back into the conscious world and he stood with only a slight delay as James headed towards the door after paying for his drink. “Wait…” he got up and followed the other man outside. He reached out and grabbed James by the elbow of his good arm to halt his retreat to the car that was waiting for him. “I still don’t understand.”

“Obviously,” James sighed heavily before he turned to face Sherlock with a bitter smile. “Sherlock,” he emphasized the use of the detective’s given name before he bowed his head just slightly, losing his upright posture just enough to show some vulnerability. “He has chosen you. He’s yours. I cannot get in the way of your fight to keep him. You have enough obstacles.”

“And what makes you think I can keep him?”

“If you want guarantees, then I cannot provide them. I can only tell you that it’s worth trying.”

“Yes, but…” Sherlock was silenced by a pair of lips on his in a quick kiss, strong fingers pressed against his chin to keep him still for barely a second. James smirked at the desired effect as Sherlock stared at him blankly, his entire body gone rigid as it appeared his brain had been taken completely offline from being shorted out at the quick but intimate gesture.

“There we go. You call me when you two stop being ridiculous.”

Sherlock snapped back into consciousness at the sound of a car pulling away, standing still as he waited for his mind and body to sync back up again.

And by that point, James Sholto was already gone.


	2. James Sholto Knows How To Get Things Done

Three days ago, Sherlock received a text message from a number that was familiar, but still surprising.

**_I heard about Mary. Is he back yet?_ **

Sherlock had yet to respond, because honestly, he had no idea. He just knew John was with him more often now that Mary was gone, but he had not officially moved back in yet. In fact, Sherlock really had no idea where John was currently living. The house was unlivable from the fire, Mary had relocated, the divorce had been finalized, and that was the extent of Sherlock’s knowledge. It’s all John had shared with him and the other man was not very easily read these days.

Though, Sherlock supposed, that should be expected given the circumstances.

Now, though. Now he was being interrupted during an investigation by a rather irritating jingle. It took him a moment to recognize it. Actually, it took John elbowing him in the ribs (albeit very gently) for him to realize that the mechanical sounding melody was actually his default ringtone. He frowned as he answered without thought or a glance. “Text me. I hate speaking on the phone. I’m also busy.”

“I think you’ll make time,” came the reply and Sherlock froze for a moment. He looked at John before excusing himself quickly, missing the slightly furrowed expression on John’s face as he watched Sherlock retreat to a good out-of-hearing distance. “Is he there with you?”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“Come on, Sherlock. I’m not some villain out to attack you. Don’t make me into one of your nemeses. It’s just a simple question. Is he there with you?”

Sherlock sucked in a breath and closed his eyes before he gritted out through clenched teeth, “Yes. He’s here,” he slackened his jaw to exhale with a heavy sigh and felt his shoulders relax. “We’re on a case. Of course he’s here.”

“You never answered my text message. Is he back? With you?”

“Not… exactly. I mean… we go on cases.”

“Not my question, Sherlock and you know it.”

Sherlock sighed heavily, shooting another look over his shoulder and straightening his posture when he realizes John is still staring at him with a peculiar expression.

“No. Fine. No. He’s not living with me right now. I… actually don’t know where he’s staying.”

“I thought you knew everything, Sherlock.”

“I know what I can deduce…” Sherlock cleared his throat. “James. I… I don’t want to over step my boundaries…”

“Fine, Mr. Holmes,” James shifted his form of address, which made Sherlock’s gut wrench sideways. “If you do not make a move soon… let’s say… tonight. The entire deal is off. In fact… I might contact him myself… see if maybe we can mend some bridges.”

Sherlock floundered a little with the threat before he quickly disconnected the call just as he felt John at his shoulder. “Who was that?” he asked just as Sherlock shoved his phone in his pocket.

“No one,” he answered a bit too quickly. Which he realized. And he winced a little in response. John stared at him skeptically before he held out his hand.

“Give me the phone.”

“What? No.”

“Sherlock. I’m not joking. Give. Me. The. Phone.”

Sherlock’s hand instinctively tightened its grip on his phone in his pocket and he narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why does it matter?” he countered as he pulled the phone back out but keeping it out of John’s reach. “We do live, separate lives, after all…” He turned his back to John when his phone buzzed with a text alert. He quickly checked the message and his mouth twitched in a quickly suppressed smile.

**_Just remember. You have to be direct with John Watson._ **

“Though I honestly don’t know why,” he amended as he turned back to John and tilted his head.

**_He will only respond to clear. Concise. Language._ **

John still had his hand out, his face was still set in a deep frown, “Sherlock, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to stall. Now what are you keeping from me?”

**_And Mr. Holmes?_ **

Sherlock placed his hand in John’s before he pulled the other man closer. He’d made up his mind. Time to be direct. “John. This is a boring conversation. Move back to Baker St. Then you can properly monitor whomever may try to contact me.”

_**Don’t screw this up.** _

“Sherlock… what are you doing?”

**_Because if you do…_ **

Sherlock slipped his hands from John’s arms to his cheeks, lifting his face slightly so he could look him in the eye, “I’m making it very clear and concise that if you are to move back into Baker St. it will not be in the spirit of best friends.”

**_Just remember…_ **

“I’m not sure I’m really following…” John fibbed. Sherlock saw it in the way his eyes darted downwards, the way his tongue darted out to wet his top lip was extra telling.

**_I know how to contact you._ **

“Yes, you are,” Sherlock forced out past his hammering heartbeat as he ducked his head downwards. The excited shrieks and ‘finally’s from the lingering officers when their lips met were completely drowned out when John’s arms slipped around Sherlock’s shoulders. Neither heard Lestrade try to corral his colleagues away from the two of them, his exasperated exclamations of ‘Yeah, yeah, we’re very happy for them’ and ‘give them some space’ and ‘Donovan, you owe me seventy!’ going completely ignored. They only broke for air and Sherlock’s phone buzzed once more.

_**I will come correct whatever damage you may do.** _

Sherlock huffed a small laugh and John did the same. “Did… that really just happen?”

“Yeah,” Sherlock confirmed with a nod as he fidgeted backwards, putting a little space between him and the other man, just so he could catch his breath. “It definitely did.”

**_Don’t worry, Sholto. I’ll take care of him. – SH_ **


	3. How To Lure Sherlock Holmes To Sleep

John looked over his shoulder as he dried his hands, noting Sherlock’s sinking posture as he tried to stay upright behind his microscope. He set aside the towel as he leaned back against the counter, watching as the insomniac detective pulled back from what he was looking at to rub his eyes. The last time John knew of Sherlock sleeping – truly and honestly sleeping – was two days ago. Alright then. Time to remedy that.

John slowly pushed himself away from the counter and very gently placed his still slightly damp hands on Sherlock’s shoulders. The other man paid him little to no mind, simply ignoring his existence for the moment. John pressed his lips to the back of brunette curls as he started to rub his thumbs against the soft fabric of Sherlock’s shirt.

“Hey…” he whispered, eliciting an inquiring grunt. “Think you can step away from that for a moment?” There was a deep noncommittal noise in response. “Please?” John moved his lips from Sherlock’s hair to his ear, his breath teasing at the back of it in a way that made Sherlock’s posture stiffen. Almost there.

John’s hands dropped down Sherlock’s front, fingers flicking skillfully at the buttons to undo them, all the while his lips traced a treacherous path from ear to nape of neck where his teeth grazed the skin just so. A, albeit very soft, groan. Perfect.

When John tugged at the shirt – pulling it down bent arms as far as he could before the fabric bunched along Sherlock’s elbows – he smoothed his hands along the exposed skin, absentmindedly tracing along the long strokes of scar tissue that marred it. He stopped when he felt Sherlock freeze, “Sorry,” he whispered. “Don’t pull away,” he reached forward and pressed his palms against the backs of Sherlock’s balled fists, breathing the other man in as he mouthed at the junction of neck and shoulder.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Sherlock murmured in a deep, if not slightly cracked, baritone, sucking in a sharp breath as teeth and suction began to worry a purpling mark into his skin – the first of what would probably be many. John took a step back as the other spun around on the stool he was perched on, his eyes lifted only marginally to meet John’s. “You do it every time you think I don’t sleep enough.” To John’s great relief, Sherlock pulls his shirt the rest of the way off instead of shrugging it back on as he sometimes does when he’s caught on to John’s ulterior motives.

“You don’t sleep enough,” John insisted as he took a step forward, fingers tracing along the waistline of Sherlock’s trousers before he pressed closer. “If I didn’t do this you’d end up crashing in a matter of hours. It’s not healthy,” his lips ghosted over Sherlocks as he added, “besides, I get something out of this too.”

“How selfish of you.”

“You like it.”

“I admit… it is oddly appealing,” Sherlock grunted when John pulled the stool away from the table, rising from it as John tugged him forward by the waist of his trousers. He towered over the shorter man for just a moment before bending at the waist to touch their lips together. Long arms encircled John’s shoulders, large hands fanning across his back before Sherlock managed to grasp the back of John’s shirt and started to shimmy it upwards to his armpits. John ducked backwards to help Sherlock rid him of his shirt and it joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the kitchen floor. John grasped Sherlock’s questing hands and squeezed them lightly before kissing the taller man’s chin.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Bedroom. Now.”

“Bedroom’s too far,” Sherlock countered.

“I’m not about to carry you to the… hey!” John teetered forward as Sherlock dragged him down to the floor, his face smacking against the pale chest beneath him. “God, you insufferable prick…” he exhaled with a humorous breath before he pushed himself up and sought out Sherlock’s lips again, fingers tangling into wild curls and pulling back just lightly.

Sherlock’s head fell back in a gasp before John found another expanse of skin to mark, just above Sherlock’s clavicle. A rumbling chuckle broke past Sherlock’s throat as he closed his eyes. “God, John… people are going to think I got attacked.”

“Just wear a scarf when we go out.”

“In June?”

Sherlock growled a little when John retaliated with another bite, this time just below his left ear, and nearly sobbed when he could feel the mark bloom under John’s well practiced mouth. “Ah… fuck…” he snarled, lust lacing his voice instead of anger.

“God, I love making you swear…” John purred against Sherlock’s skin, eliciting another bitter laugh from the man beneath him.

“The list of your turn ons astounds me with its mundanity.”

“On the contrary,” John mocked with a sneer. “You only do it when you’re incredibly worked up… which means… when you’re angry… overly excited… or horny as hell. The more curses I get you to throw around? The closer I know you are to coming…” He kissed Sherlock’s forehead and smirked. “The brilliant Sherlock Holmes sobbing obscenities… there’s nothing sexier than that.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and shoved John upwards. “Get up and get the lube so you can fuck me senseless and I can get some fucking sleep… Jesus Christ.”

“And sometimes I just wish I could gag you with a bar of soap,” John amended as he stood back up. Sherlock lifted one arm to flip John off as his other hand started to wander down between his legs. John paused as he turned around at the sight of Sherlock palming at himself through his trousers, biting back his groan before he took Sherlock finger in his mouth and sucked on it before shoving the bottle of lube in his hand and closing his fingers over it. “There. You impatient bastard.”

Sherlock pulled John back down on top of him and it was only a matter a minutes before they wrestled each other out of the remainder of their clothes. Sure enough, Sherlock’s language got filthier, degrading to barely audible ‘fuck’s as John thrust into him, his back chilled against the hard floor of the kitchen, fingers grasping at the back of John’s neck, sliding up the back of his head into his hair. “John,” he panted, desperation taking hold of his words. “Fuck… I love you… oh god…” he whispered his mantra into John’s skin, the breaks in his voice urging John further as he responded in kind.

“I know… I know… I love you too…”

Sherlock came first, eyes shut tight and chest rising and falling in a shuddering rhythm, it didn’t take much for John to follow. John wrinkled his nose at the feel of their sticky bodies pressed together before he planted a lazy kiss onto Sherlock’s lips.

“Mm… you have to get up,” he urged, Sherlock answering nonsensically muttered protests. “No. Really. You are not falling asleep on this floor. Again. Get up.” Despite his own fogged up mental capacity, John managed to get them both on their feet, padding naked down the hall to the bedroom where Sherlock promptly collapsed – the post-orgasm high relaxing his brain enough to accept the exhausted signals pertaining to his body’s sleep deprivation. John wiped off both of their bodies and covered Sherlock with a sheet, which was promptly twisted around the detective’s body as he situated himself into a comfortable sleeping position.

John smiled before he leaned down and kissed the back of Sherlock’s shoulder before drawing the skin between his teeth one last time. Sherlock groaned and muttered against his pillow. “Arsehole…”

He chuckled as he kissed the blemish, closing his eyes and breathing in the other man for a moment before he replied. “I love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Love you more if you’d shut up and let me sleep…” He reached out and grasped at John’s arm when the other man shifted towards the edge of the bed. “Where y’ goin’?” his words started to slur as he got closer and closer to unconsciousness.

“I won’t be far… just sleep.”

John leaned over to kiss Sherlock’s hair, pressing his nose to it and closing his eyes until he heard Sherlock finally finally slip into much awaited slumber. He rubbed his face and closed his eyes, gathering his bearings before he stood again. While Sherlock slept, John would stand watch, making sure nothing disturbed him.

Because Sherlock sleeping soundly was a rarity and John did not go through all that work (as pleasurable and amazing as it always was) for it to be interrupted.


	4. John Watson Won't Let Go

John grumbled obscenities as he shuffled to the door, rubbing his face and saying something about Mrs. Hudson letting clients up right after he told her not to. He’d just gotten Sherlock to sleep. For the love of God don’t wake him…

His thoughts trailed off when he opened the door to tell off whoever had knocked. The authority in that knock should have tipped him off, but he hadn’t fully noticed it until now. He stood stunned and floundering before he finally took a step back and breathed out, “James…”

James Sholto let himself into the flat and looked around the disarray strung from room to room and down the hallway before he turned to face John with a small smile.

The shorter man sputtered slightly and he instinctively began to gather up some of the clothes that were clearly out of place. “I’m sorry,” he croaked as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “We… I mean… I… well… we… weren’t expecting company today.”

“It’s fine, John,” James insisted as he shook his head. “I see you’ve come back here. After everything.”

John just cleared his throat and dropped the clothes unceremoniously into a small pile off to the side and rubbed the back of his neck. He tried his best to compose himself but his eyes kept darting at every small mess that provided awkward clues towards his and Sherlock’s current living situation. “Uh… yeah,” he inserted another nervous cough, “Yeah. I moved back in about…”

“A month ago, correct?”

“Yeah… how’d… you know?”

“Sherlock and I have been talking… speaking of which. Is he here? There’s something I need to discuss with him.”

“You’ve…” John frowned a little as he tried to process this new piece of information before panic set in at James’ current destination as he walked down the hallway. “Wait!” John cut James off just short of the bedroom door. The other man regarded him with patience and a rather amused look. “What do you mean you’ve been talking to Sherlock?”

James just chuckled at the jealous inflection that held fast to John’s tone. He leaned forward slightly, “Now is that any way to speak to your former superior, John?” He waved John out of the way, smirking when the doctor stood his ground.

“Answer my question.”

“Hm,” James shrugged his good arm and took a careful step back. “I contacted him about… six months ago? Shortly after he was released from the hospital. We’ve exchanged the very rare message since then.” His lips tightened a bit at the way John drew himself up to his full height, barring his way to the bedroom. “I take it he’s in there.”

“He doesn’t sleep well,” John’s voice had dropped in volume but not in strength. “He’s been up for two days straight before now.”

“And I can only imagine what you had to do to finally get that mind of his to power down,” James added with a sigh before he smiled again, “In fact, I don’t think I have to. I think I can venture a fairly safe guess,” he opened the door from around the barricade that was John Watson’s body before he gently pushed past. “Ah,” he smiled at the sight he found. “Just what I thought. Barely wrapped in a sheet covered in a love bites,” he turned to face the blushing man behind him. “You always were a possessive little fucker, John. There’d be days I’d think you’d scar me.” He slowly sat down on the side of the bed that wasn’t occupied by Sherlock’s sprawling body before he removed the photo from his pocket and slipped it underneath the sleeping man’s pillow. Sherlock made a protesting grunt and James saw John wince in concern at the slight stir. He smiled and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s temple and mouthed in a whisper just a hair above silence that he was merely giving Sherlock his promised reward.

He stood again and tilted his head at the way John’s fists clenched. “Who are you being jealous of right now, John?” he asked in a hushed tone before he strode out of the room.

John followed.

“What was that?”

“A matter that only partially concerns you but not enough that you need to know,” James admitted freely.

“Now hold on!” John winced a bit and shot a frantic look towards the door before he gingerly reached back and closed it. He let out a sigh and looked at James with an anguished expression. “Why did you talk to him?” he asked in a choked whisper that James could never say no to.

He reached out with his good hand and cradled John’s cheek, running a thumb over the skin. “I asked him to meet me. We talked about you.”

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t,” James sighed and dropped his head down, eyes falling to the floor for just a moment before realigning back to meet John’s gaze. “He loves you, John. A blind man could see that. He loves you so much and you love him so much in return. And I spoke to him… thinking… if I could get him to confess – to say what I couldn’t – then maybe I could absolve myself of all this… this regret. I couldn’t give you what you needed. Then or now.”

John just laughed, a breathless, humorless sound that tore through his chest and caught in his throat before he swallowed it back down. “Don’t. Start that load of shit again. I’m done with that.”

“I know you are. You’re with him,” James pointed out before he smiled, “And with his single minded focus, I’m sure the sex is absolutely fantastic. Once you got over the whole… he freezes when someone actually kisses him.”

“And now you’re just completely avoiding the issue.”

“Is there an issue?” James countered as he began the internal countdown towards John fully catching up. 3… 2… 1…

“And what do you mean freezes when someone kisses him? How would you know about that?”

James just smirked as he held up a finger, taking in a bit of pride at being able to watch John seethe slightly in annoyance. “I may have done it to shut him up. But to be fair. He kept asking questions and I really needed to leave. But it was a quick kiss. It’s easy to overload him with romantic gestures, isn’t it?” He caught John’s hand as it raised in an exasperated gesture before he pulled him close, hard enough he almost caught himself off balance. “You though. Takes a bit more to distract you,” he captured John’s lips before the shorter man could fully form a protest, his fingers slipping into his hair and keeping him effectively still. John met it with fervor, clutching at James’ shirt with his fully freed hands as his fingers dug into the fabric.

John broke the kiss first, pulling back with a gasp as he shook his head, “You’re not off the hook. I still want to know why you two were talking about me.”

“Isn’t it obvious, John?” James rasped before he pressed his lips to John’s hairline and closed his eyes. “You’re what we have in common. Now…” he extracted John’s hands from his shirt one at a time, squeezing each one before he released them. “You have in that room… a beautiful and broken man… who you can take care of so… just your type. I highly suggest you don’t let him go. Now… I’ll see myself out. You hold onto him tight. Right?”

John’s smile was tragic and sad as he gave James a curt nod. His eyes slipped into the distance for a moment, pondering the many twists and turns endured to get him right where he was standing – his past ahead of him retreating and his future lying in a bed behind him – before they focused back to the present. “After the hell we went through to get here? I’m holding on for dear life,” he answered without any semblance of a doubt.

“Good.” James held out his hand and John took it in a firm, parting handshake. “That, John Watson, was the other reason I came today. So. Thank you.”

As their hands released, James turned and, as promised, let himself out.

And John went back to where Sherlock was still lying, asleep, in bed, and wrapped his arms around him with no intentions of letting go.

Just as promised.


	5. James Sholto Wishes You a Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was actually inspired by this Tumblr post:  
> http://fujoshi-kianna-leigh.tumblr.com/post/134260977100/vanetti-james-sent-a-drunk-text-to-john-at
> 
> It's a bit early for Christmas, but close enough. Right?

Sherlock was half awake when John’s phone lit up at three in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and reached over to see who would be texting at such an odd hour. He frowned a bit, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the unnaturally bright light emitted by the small screen before he focused on the words enough to comprehend them.

In less than a second, he deleted the message before he very carefully started to extract himself from John’s arms. His attempts did not go unnoticed.

“Wh’re y’ goin’?” John murmured groggily, trying his best to cling onto Sherlock’s hips.

“Shh… it’s okay, I’ll be right back,” Sherlock soothed before he leaned down and kissed just above John’s ear. The other man grunted in protest as Sherlock batted his hands away from him, dodging the poorly aimed attempts to draw him back into the warmth of bed and sleep and John.

“No…” came a protesting whine as Sherlock settled the still partly asleep man back into bed.

“I’ll be right back, John. I promise…” he whispered against John’s hair before he slipped into some easily accessible clothes and headed out.

* * *

James Sholto was slouched back against an armchair, strong drink cradled in his hand, phone resting on his knee. He was trying to drown the immense regret that had pooled in his gut the moment he had pressed “send” – his liquid courage already being chased away by an oddly sober sense of dread. He didn’t even flinch when careful fingers pried his glass from his slacking grip.

“Should I even ask how you got in here?”

“Best you didn’t,” Sherlock replied as he set the glass out of James’ reach. “What are you doing, James?” The question was gentle, any judgment carefully extracted from tone. It was answered with bitter laughter that lashed outwards and tried to shred any sense of civility that could be preserved in the moment.

“So now you’re the caretaker? Things with John have changed you drastically, Mr. Holmes.”

“Don’t do that,” Sherlock warned. “You know better than that. If anyone does.”

James just chuckled, a mirthless bubble of sound that seemed to catch in his throat before he nodded, “Yes, Sherlock I suppose I do… so I suppose I don’t need to ask that you saw the message.”

“It’s been dealt with.”

“He won’t see it?”

“No. He won’t.”

“Good.” James swallowed the lump gathering in his throat before his lips twitched unconsciously in a strange smile. “You probably think the worst of me.”  
Sherlock only huffed a short laugh as he shook his head as he settled on the ottoman in front of James. He shook his head as he brought his folded hands to his mouth, his eyes focusing on something beyond James, beyond the moment, onto memories that seemed so distant now. “Believe me,” he whispered, “I’m the last person who could think the worst of you.”

A silence stretches uncomfortably between them before Sherlock shifted forward, dropped his hands and sighed. “It’s been expressed to me that in situations such as these, an empathetic anecdote could possibly provide comfort.”

“Sherlock…”

“I did the same thing, James. Once. When I was gone…” James propped his head up, wetting his lips before Sherlock pulled out a bottle of water from the inside of his coat. It clicked satisfactorily as the seal was snapped before it was offered to James, who took it without question or doubt. “I was… emotionally compromised… and before I properly checked in with Mycroft, I’d texted John. Where I was, my coordinates, and a message. That I missed him. That I wanted him beside me.” Sherlock snorted at his own past folly. “I knew what I’d done the moment I’d done it. I begged Mycroft to fix it. Think he took some odd satisfaction in helping me…” Sherlock swallowed bit, “Honestly, my track record around Christmas is incredibly poor.”

“Would it have really been that terrible?” James inquired as he sipped at the water and wiped his face with his fingers. “Telling him you were alive then? It would have been harder for Mary to become part of the equation if that were the case.”

Sherlock swallowed thickly and bowed his head. “It would have been terrible, yes. I jumped off a building, James. I jumped off a building after lying to him and then I kept myself quiet because I couldn’t bear to give him hope that I could survive what I was about to face. I couldn’t have him think that I was going to come home when there was a chance I wasn’t.”

“That doesn’t seem to paint you in a better light, Sherlock.”

“It’s not meant to. That’s why it’s honest,” Sherlock perched himself at the very edge of the ottoman, hands pressed on the arms of the chair. “I pined for John to the point of stupidity. The only other person who could possibly relate to that is you. So how can I be angry at you for wanting him the same way I have?”

Whatever James is about to say is interrupted by Sherlock’s phone buzzing.

**_Where are you? I’m worried. You’ve been gone forever._ **

There was a rapid tapping sound as Sherlock replied.

**_I’m fine. Be home soon. -SH_ **

James placed his hand over Sherlock’s phone, lowering it slightly and offering him a smile. “I shouldn’t have tried to interfere.”

“Yes, you should have,” Sherlock answered without looking up as he pocketed his phone. “You love him, James. No matter what you say, that doesn’t change that easily…” Sherlock paused when the back of James’ fingers brushed against his cheek. “I need to go.” 

“You’re taking care of him?”

“Do you want the sordid details or will yes suffice?”

“Yes is a perfectly fine answer.”

“Then yes… I am taking care of him.”

James stood as Sherlock did, albeit a bit less steady on his feet. Sherlock reached out and grasped the other man’s elbow to keep him from stumbling. “I ruined your Christmas.”

“Christmas was yesterday. My Christmas was fine. Seems you potentially ruined your own Christmas. I just stopped by to make sure you didn’t ruin your relationship with John. Now I’m leaving, assuming you try to sober up and get some sleep.”

James offered a smile before he tapped Sherlock lightly on the underside of his chin. “Before you go, I’d suggest you double check your phone, Sherlock. I didn’t send that text to just him.”

As James retreated to his bedroom, Sherlock felt his heart stutter and drop before he dug his phone back out. Sure enough, from James’ number, was an unread, but very familiar text message.

**_I want you. I wish you were here. Merry Christmas._ **

Sherlock promptly deleted it.


	6. Sherlock Holmes Can Break Into Locked Houses

It was not unusual for James Sholto to be up at this hour. It was, however, unusual for a phone to be ringing. It was nearly impossible for that phone to not be his own. He added the “nearly” because in fact, there was a phone (that wasn’t his) ringing somewhere in his sitting room. He stepped cautiously, clutching a butcher knife tightly, ready to strike if necessary. He saw the light of the ringing smart phone tucked underneath a body on his sofa.

It took a moment, but he recognized that body as Sherlock Holmes.

James sighed, visibly relaxing at the sight of the tall detective sleeping soundly and didn’t even bother to question what he was doing there in the first place. If the months of interacting with Sherlock were to prove anything, it was to expect everything. He disarmed himself of the knife and leaned down to answer the still ringing phone, not even bothering to check who it was.

He was answered by a very familiar voice.

“Thank god!” came the relieved sigh at just an answer, “Sherlock, I could fucking kill you. Where the hell are you? You were supposed to check in hours ago…”

James cleared his throat, causing the person on the other end of the line to pause his verbal rampage. “Hello, John.”

“James?”

“Yes. Seems I’ve found Sherlock.”

“Where?”

“In my house.”

There was a long pause and as it stretched into levels of awkwardness that James found to be increasingly uncomfortable, he spoke up again, “John? Are you still there?”

“Oh god,” came the soft reply and James swore he could hear John rub his face in desperation, “Sherlock… what are you thinking?” he whispered, rather desperately before clearing his throat, “James? Is he asleep?”

“Yes?”

“Of course…” James frowned a little at the slightly panicked tone that John’s voice had adopted. He looked over to the still sleeping man, stretched out haphazardly on his stomach, his steady breaths producing very soft but apparent snores.

He very quietly retreated back to his kitchen, keeping his voice at a respectable level when he spoke again, “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but feel I’m missing something? Skip over how he managed to get in here, but is it bad that he is?”

Another long sigh followed by an even longer pause. James could picture John’s fidgeting, the way his face contorted as he tried to find the words to explain the obvious ill feeling he had about the whole situation.

“Sherlock had a case,” he began and James listened patiently. “I haven’t seen him in four days. I had… to take care of some things here so I couldn’t go along. It’s the first time since… well… since the whole thing with Mary… that we’ve been apart for an extended period of time.”

Things were starting to click into place, but there was still some nugget of information that James was clearly missing.

“Anyway… I didn’t even think about the fact that the case would take him right to your area… I should have… and I didn’t…” A sharp exhale indicated John’s fidgeting was starting to evolve into full blown irritation. “Not that it really matters it’s just… well…”

James stepped in, trying to give John a hand in his explanation, “Well?” he prompted before John could slip into another pause.

“He has… this routine… now. I mean… he may have always had it but… well, I know more about it now that we’re… well… you know.”

“Okay, John. I appreciate you sparing my feelings, but can we hurry on to the point?”

“Yes, sorry… anyway. When he’s on a case, Sherlock systematically ignores his body’s urges. He does that no matter what, sometimes, but on a case… it’s worse. So… When he solves it… everything catches up all at once.”

James raised an eyebrow as he started to sort through this information. He was starting to figure out the direction John was taking this, but he needed to be sure.

“And that means?”

“Well…” John cleared his throat. He was nervous. Flustered. Probably blushing. James couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “He’ll eat something first… then promptly find a safe place to pass out… then… when he wakes up…” The sharp inhale told exactly what James needed to know, but he didn’t stop John from voicing it. “Well… like I said… I don’t know how long he’s had this part of the routine… but… he gets… insistent.”

James rolled his eyes at the polite euphemism. “You mean horny,” he supplied.

“Incredibly,” John confirmed.

“So that’s why you’re bothered by him being here.”

“I never said I was bothered.”

“You’re a jealous man by nature, John… you don’t like sharing.”

“Exceptions can be made,” came the response from behind. James turned to see Sherlock leaning casually against the doorjamb, looking rumpled with his wrinkled suit, untucked shirt, and disheveled hair that he swept back away from his eyes. He held out his hand and James passed the phone to his open palm without question. Sherlock brought it to his ear, his voice slipping into a sultry “Hello, John” that James knew, without a doubt, would have John salivating in the instant. A far cry from the man he’d met over a year ago – who froze at the sheer mention of intimacy. John Watson, you terrible man, James thought with a smile, Look what you did.

“To be fair,” he caught Sherlock saying, “I did beg you to come with me.” Sherlock pulled the phone away from his ear and clicked it onto speaker phone before setting it on the table.

“-eans you get to break into my ex’s flat and try to seduce him!”

“Who’s trying?” Sherlock quipped as he wrapped his arms around James’ shoulders, lips ghosting over James’ chin before hovering over his lips. He smirked at John’s obviously flustered groan. “John. It was bad enough I had to deal with the idiotic local authorities on my own, but I didn’t feel safe in that hotel.”

James raised an eyebrow at Sherlock’s choice of words, and it was clear that John saw straight through their intention. “Safe, Sherlock? Really?” He sounded less than convinced.

“I’m in a very compromised state after I finish my cases, you know that.”

James snorted back a laugh and Sherlock pressed a finger to his lips, providing a barrier to keep them from meeting in a much anticipated kiss. “Bullshit,” came John’s response and Sherlock rolled his eyes, pushing himself backwards with much effort. James caught his wrist and pulled him back.

“John?” he ventured, keeping Sherlock still, their breaths mingling as they met each other’s eyes. “You just finished telling me that Sherlock gets very… I think the word you used was insistent?”

“Pretty sure the more accurate term is ‘horny’, if I recall.”

“Shh!” James hissed to keep Sherlock from protesting before he cleared his throat. “If that is the case, I doubt that merely masturbating it out would be incredibly pleasant for him.”

‘What are you doing?’ Sherlock mouthed and James only held up a finger when John grumbled a reluctant “I suppose.”

“And Sherlock is certainly not the type to seek out anonymous sex, much less you be the type to allow him to do so,” James continued, his good hand dropping down to grasp Sherlock’s hip. “So… given the circumstances… is it really a surprise that he would end up here?” He reached over and picked up the phone, cradling it in his palm as he spoke, quite clearly. “Now, as I said before. You’re a jealous man. You’re down right possessive if these fading marks on Sherlock’s neck mean anything and you have every right to be. It took a hell of a lot for you two to find each other… but…” James caught Sherlock smiling at him, quite genuinely, with a sort of mischief glittering in his gaze as his eyes darted across his face. Sherlock took the phone from James’ grasp and spoke, gently, though the words that fell from his lips were far from chaste.

“John Watson,” his voice dipped into that same honeyed tone that he addressed John with when he first woke up. James swore he could hear the shudder that it elicited from John. “If you were truly bothered by this, you wouldn’t be stalling. You’d have said ‘no’ by now. But from the slight change in pitch to your voice combined with your labored breathing, not to mention your current pornography habits… don’t deny it, I’ve seen your browser history…” Sherlock motioned to James to follow him as he headed back into the sitting room, kneeling down fish through his coat pockets. “How about I make you a deal?” there was a muffled clatter as the small digital camera fell to the floor as Sherlock pulled out his hand, clutching a small bottle. “Be our instructor.”

There’s a beat of silence as John seems to ponder this suggestion. When he speaks next, it’s with an authority that makes both James’ and Sherlock’s guts lurch downward. “James, easiest way to subdue Sherlock is by grabbing him by the hair. You’ve got to go for the base, though… not the top.”

“Oh now that’s not fa..” Sherlock was cut off at the slight tug at the nape of his neck and a gasp as his head fell back.

“Nothing about this is fair,” John answered as James smirked a bit, carding his fingers through Sherlock’s curls. “Sherlock… James has a tendency to want to rush through things. Kind of a bad habit he picked up. Don’t let him. Show him what you’re good at.”

James fell into his arm chair, with Sherlock in his lap, their lips finally meeting in a long awaited kiss. Sherlock met James’ passion with fervor, their tongues sliding together as Sherlock seemed set on proving himself. Sherlock pulls back when he hears the telltale click of a digital camera snapping a picture, the one from his coat pocket having found its way in James’ hand. They shared a devious smile before Sherlock pushed himself back, eyes darting across James’ form again before he started to undo the buttons of his shirt. James tilted his head a little.

“You’re deducing me…” he noted, leaning his head back as Sherlock ran his lips down the side of his neck, hands slipping into his shirt, thumbs running across his skin before teasing his nipples. He gasped, which John must have heard because there was a short laugh coming in over the phone.

“He’s a very quick learner,” Sherlock slid his body downwards until he was on his knees on the floor, settled in between James’ parted thighs. “Oh Sherlock… I should warn you… there’s a bit of a…”

“You’re longer,” Sherlock remarked, rather matter-of-factly as James’ erection was freed by questing fingers. Sherlock traced his thumb along the tip, making James inhale sharply as he curled his fingers around the length, stroking downward to the base. “Not as thick but… John…”

“Take it slow, Sherlock. Just like you did with me,” there was a touch of warmth and good humor in John’s encouragement that releases the tension that began to build up in Sherlock’s shoulders. James sets down the camera to run a finger across Sherlock’s cheek, which Sherlock leans into. There’s a slow exhale as James falls back at the feeling of Sherlock’s lips wrapping around him. A moment of stillness before Sherlock hollows out his cheeks and bobs his head downward, and then a moan.

“Oh… god. You’re beautiful…” James whispers, looking down to watch Sherlock stroke what he couldn’t fit in his mouth, his brow creasing and his eyes closing tight as he seemed to try to focus solely on what he was doing with his tongue. “Sweet lord… John…. What are you teaching this man?”

There’s a soft chuckle near his ear from the phone still set on the arm of the chair, “Anything he doesn’t figure out on his own,” came the response before John’s voice slipped into the darker tone from before. “Tell me how he’s doing, James… please.”

James’ head fell back as Sherlock moved his hands to his hips, to keep the other man from thrusting upwards. He groaned when James grabbed the back of his head, tangling his fingers in his hair and pulled just slightly. “Great… fantastic…” his breath hitched as Sherlock took all he could in his mouth and slowly dragged his lips back to the tip, a moan reverberating through James’ cock. “I could… nn… have him do this all night. But… with your permission… I would really really like to fuck him.” Sherlock pulled his mouth off of James with an obscene slurp, lazily licking a trail along the underside from tip to base and back again before he playfully sucked at the tip.

James released Sherlock’s hair to snap another picture, cataloging what moments he could. He jerks his chin upward to gesture for Sherlock to crawl back into his lap. With one finally suckle, Sherlock pulled away and stood, shrugging off his suit jacket and letting it fall on the floor. The richly colored plum shirt was next, buttons undone before it was pushed aside as Sherlock straddled his lap and their lips met again in a quick kiss.

“One condition,” John’s voice broke through their aroused haze, but did not distract them from undoing Sherlock’s trousers and push them downwards. “You have to completely undo him. And I know the easiest way.”

There’s a pop to uncapping the lube bottle before the slick substance is smeared along James’ fingers. He reached around Sherlock’s waist and slipped them down the crease. Sherlock’s body tensed and squirmed at the feeling before bucking slightly when the tip of one finger found what it was looking for. James could only grin.

“Seems your lover neglected to wear pants… but… I’m listening, John. Easiest way to undo him?”

They could both hear the wicked grin seep into John’s words as he spoke deliberately slow. “You take him from behind. It’s simple. When he’s facing away from you, he can’t focus on someone else. He’s forced to concentrate on what’s happening to him and his body. Otherwise, he’s constantly trying to figure you out. His brain won’t shut off.”

Sherlock’s jaw dropped a little as a protest started to form, but James cut him off with a quick twist to his fingers. Protest turned to gracious whine and Sherlock’s head fell forward onto James’ shoulder, his palm running across the rough scarred skin along his face as he pressed his lips to his neck. “That true, Sherlock?” James ventured, reveling in the way Sherlock’s body jerked as he pressed in a second finger. “Do you try to deduce people even while they’re fucking you?”

Sherlock moaned and mouthed at James’ ear before he spoke, breath coming in hot short bursts. “You’ve wanted this. You’ve wanted both of us. You’re a greedy man, James Sholto… to work yourself into our lives like you have but…” his head fell back in a gasp as James’ fingers thrust deep inside him before pulling out abruptly. Sherlock fell back against the ottoman as James stood, towering over him. He scrambled upwards, trousers halfway down his legs before they were yanked down to his ankles, kicking them off the rest of the way. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sherlock gulped down air, heart pounding as he was flipped to his stomach. The cell phone, call still connected was tossed in front of him. Sherlock stared at John’s name, fingers scrabbling for the phone, clutching it by the sides. He gasped and sputtered and groaned at the first thrust, James’ fingers clutching Sherlock’s hip to keep him still. “Ah god! James! John… oh…” Sherlock felt his eyesight blur, fingers digging at taut fabric as everything seemed to slow to a stop. His head hung low, pressed against the upholstery, he barely registered John’s voice speaking again.

“… him a moment to catch up,” the fingers were gone from his hips and there was another click of the camera, James leaning down and whispering against his skin.

“Come on Gorgeous, you with me?” Sherlock nodded as he came back into focus, John’s name dancing in front of his eyes. He felt James pull out just slightly, short little thrusts, inching himself more and more inside Sherlock with each push forward. Sherlock’s senses surge him back into the moment as he becomes aware of his own moaning, it takes another minute for him to realize that James is speaking again, “God, John… you lucky bastard…”

“I wish I was there… God, I want to see you two… Sherlock… love… how is it?”

“Fan… fucking… tastic… can’t think… can’t… nnn…” Sherlock’s eyes squeeze shut as his brain ceases to function on a higher level, overloading on sensory input as it all coiled tightly through his body and downward. He twists his hand underneath him to take hold of himself, sucking in another gasp as he pressed his cheek against his other arm. “James… John… John. Oh fuck… James!” His mantra stops short with another moan and as light seems to burst from behind his eyes. He feels himself coming, his body drawing tight before his limbs loosen and fall limp around him. He buries his face, whispering soft ‘yes’s, he snapping back as he realizes James is seated fully within him. “Oh, Jesus Christ, James…” He twisted his body around, whimpering at the loss when James pulls out, staring up at the other man as he flips himself carefully and reaches out to stroke James to completion, come painting his chest.

James reaches out and runs his hand through Sherlock’s hair, a sated smile on his face. “Look at you… covered in come. Feeling better?”

Sherlock nodded and picked up the camera where it was discarded on the seat of the chair, snapping a few pictures for himself before leaning in and kissing James again. “Get the phone, talk to him,” James whispers, “I need to photograph you like this for him or I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “So these pictures are for him?”

“Mmm… wouldn’t be against having a few copies for myself.”

Sherlock just snorted before he reached out and clicked the phone off of speaker, dabbing the tips of his fingers across the mess on his chest and bringing them to his lips, “Think you can forgive me?”

“We’ll see how I feel in the morning. Right now, though? It’s looking pretty good in your favor.”

* * *

John knocked on the door and waited patiently, offering a polite smile when the door opened and James greeted him wearing a dressing gown and pajama bottoms. “Hey… where is he?” John asked gently, stepping in as James silently invited him inside.

“Bedroom. Sleeping soundly, last I checked.”

“And that is…?”

“That way,” James pointed and offered a small smile, “In a hurry?”

John paused and looked back to him before he offered a smile of his own in return, shaking his head. “No. Not really, I suppose. He behave for you?”

“You mean aside from breaking into my house before seducing me into all kinds of debauchery? Absolutely.”

John snorted. “Debauchery? Like you’re the image of purity?”

“Mm..” James just smirked before he handed John a large envelope. “Here. I printed these off this morning.”

“What are…” John flipped open the envelope and gasped, heart jumping into double time as he pulled out the stack of photos, “Oh my god…”

“There’s footage from the security cameras on the disc in there too. Along with the camera that took those photos. Don’t worry. They’re for your eyes only.” James crossed over into his kitchen to pick up his cup of tea, sipping at it carefully. “There’s some good ones in there, though.” He turned to face John, who had turned bright red as he thumbed through the stack.

“You’re both… god…” He paused at one of the photos, Sherlock twisted in sheets and absolutely filthy, ribbons of come tracing along his back and looking over his shoulder, face red and eyes wide as his cheeks were spread, putting him on display. John found himself fixating on the small, sated smile on his lips. “You’re a dirty man, James.”

“Speak for yourself,” James chuckled. “Or do I need to remind you of last night’s phone call?”

“Yes… yes. We’re all just a group of perverts… god, I need to stop looking at these,” John slid the stack of photos back into the envelope and offered him a smile. “So you said he’s in the bedroom?”

“Mhm. Miracle I’m awake, to be honest, so I’d be incredibly surprised if he is.”

John nodded as he headed in the direction that James had instructed, envelope still clutched in his hand. He dropped it gently on the bed once he stepped inside, settling next to the sleeping man curled against one of the pillows. He smoothed his hand along Sherlock’s shoulder before he leaned down and kissed the bared skin. The other man stirred and blue-grey eyes blinked open before a smile stretched across his lips.

“Morning,” John whispered and kissed Sherlock’s temple, hand tugging at the blankets. “Can I take a look at you?”  
Sherlock only nodded and turned onto his back as John lifted the blankets away. There was a low whistle before John ran his hand soothingly across Sherlock’s skin as he whispered in the other man’s ear. “James showed me the pictures from last night. Seemed you enjoyed yourself.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around John’s neck, pulling the man close to his naked body. “I really did, thank you… but I missed you.”

John smiled and kissed Sherlock’s forehead as he pushed his curls back. “Missed you too, love.”

“Did you like your birthday gift?”

John laughed and shook his head. “Not my birthday for another six weeks.”

“Then your un-birthday gift.”

John jerked backwards and his eyebrows shot up as he looked down at the other man. “Sherlock Holmes. Did you just make a reference to popular literature?”

“Mm… I might have.”

“Then who are you and what have you done with Sherlock?”

“Pretty sure Sherlock was fucked into oblivion by one James Sholto.”

“I can believe that,” John remarked before he smiled and kissed Sherlock again, “And to be honest, I think I might be a bit jealous…” He wrapped Sherlock’s legs around his hips and rocked his clothed body against Sherlock’s bare skin, causing Sherlock to arch against him with a gasp. “So hard to share you. You have any idea how sexy you sounded in that phone call? The things I would have done to both of you if I’d been here?” He paused in that thought and shook his head, kissing Sherlock softly and drawing himself away. “We need to get you home.”

“We could, you know… John. I love you, but I really do like him…” Sherlock clutched at John’s hand, trying to keep him near.

“We can’t, Sherlock. We can’t keep dragging him along like this. He deserves better than to be our third wheel,” He squeezed Sherlock’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “We gotta let go, Sherlock. Don’t pull this kind of stunt again, for my sake and his. Where are your clothes?”

“I think they’re in the sitting room still…” Sherlock replied, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

John nodded as he stood up, leaving Sherlock behind to gather up his things. As he draped Sherlock’s coat onto his arm he looked up to see James standing, watching him, “Heading out then?” was all he asked.

“Yeah…” John cleared his throat. “Listen… last time you came to Baker St… you said that I needed to hold onto him.”

“I did.”

“Well… I still plan to. Hold onto him. This… this was just a one time thing. A hot fantasy that I had no business having…”

James nodded once. “I understand. I have no interest in trying to take him from you.”

“Good… good…” John sucked in a breath and brought himself to full height as he looked over at James for a long moment, eyes raking over the older, scarred body, as his mind filled in with memories of what use to be. He remembered the heat, the pressure, the release… and to think that Sherlock got more of James Sholto than he ever did… he supposed that jealousy from before swung both ways. “God dammit…” he whispered as he dropped what was in his arms and in four strides closed the gap between them and pulled James down into a searing kiss that could only promise greater things.


End file.
